


No Speed Limit

by coffeehousehaunt



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Casual Sex, Except this is, F/F, Fuckbuddies, Motorcycle Girlfriends, Motorcycles, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 14:27:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8059837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeehousehaunt/pseuds/coffeehousehaunt
Summary: Alex and Lucy have an understanding. 
For Dare to Write prompt 369 - "no speed limit"





	

They clocked 127 miles per hour.  
  
They also caught the bad guy, so Hank will most likely forgive them for making the National City news and making _him_ pull in all his favors with the NCPD (and all of Kara’s pull with Cat Grant) to keep his agents’ faces off the 5 o'clock news.  
  
Alex swings the bike around as it screams to a halt in the underground bay, leaving a black streak on the cement. She’s off without another word, pulling off her helmet and heading for the elevator. Lucy’s right on her heels.  
  
It takes two entire seconds after the doors close before Lucy forms the thought—Alex is _shaking_.  
  
Alex slaps a floor number much closer than the command center, one that confuses Lucy, because why does Alex want to go to the maintenance bay before debrief?  
  
Lucy doesn't _know_ why she follows Alex out, but she knows why.  
  
She's shaking, too. Adrenaline, and a whole other host of things that she hasn't felt for years.  
  
127 miles per hour. The air was hitting her like a wall. Her body is still buzzing with the impact. Her ears are ringing so badly she thinks maybe she should get them checked. She's lucky to be alive.  
  
They're both lucky to be alive.  
  
Alex lasts until she sets her helmet down. And then she's _on_ Lucy, gloves on leather, lips on lips. She tastes like sweat and, faintly, blood from where she’s chewed through the skin inside her lip.  
  
They’re pulling at clothes with clumsy hands, grabbing at each other, bulky layers in the _way_ , pulling away to strip off a glove, a zipper, a jacket—  
  
Hands fisting in uniforms, tearing off buttons. Alex’s mouth moves down Lucy's neck. Lucy tastes Alex's pulse, hammering hard against her tongue, like the engine of the bike between her legs earlier, against her thighs. Her hands find the hem of Alex’s undershirt and then she’s scratching her nails across Alex’s lower back. Something, _anything_ , to get rid of this adrenaline. Their breathing is ragged, Lucy realizes, but it's almost in sync.  
  
Alex growls and pushes her back against a shelf. Something metal rattles.  
  
It's nothing like when they were drunk. _This_ , Lucy is sure she won't forget; the shift of muscles under Alex's skin, chilled sweat, sticky damp shirts on skin. She brings one hand up to Alex’s cheek and sucks on her tongue, the kiss bruising hard—not hard enough.  
  
Neither of them is coordinated enough—or giving ground enough—for this to become fucking. Still, there’s hands on belts and Lucy is surprised when Alex groans and she finds her fingers sliding through slick, heated flesh.  
  
She sinks two fingers inside, and Alex moans against her mouth again, clutching at her shoulder and her hip.  
  
Lucy doesn't waste time, fucking her roughly, well aware that they might get caught any second—but Alex’s panting against her lips, and the _relief_ … Lucy doesn't care about who _might_ walk in. She drives her fingers into Alex as forcefully as the angle will allow, crooking and pressing.  
  
Alex grabs onto the shelf next to Lucy’s shoulder, white-knuckling. Her legs seem surprisingly steady, despite the way her body’s tightening around Lucy’s fingers already, hips moving unsteadily. Her eyes are closed and her head’s angled down, expression somewhere between focused and _fucked_. Locks of hair are sticking to her forehead, and the rest of it curtains her face slightly, making her look cut off, closed away, despite the fact that Lucy is knuckle-deep in Alex, and Alex is wetter than _sin_ for her.  
  
Lucy noses closer and brushes her lips over Alex’s gently. Alex returns the kiss, but Lucy can feel the muscles in Alex’s cunt shivering with tension around her fingers.  
  
Lucy claims Alex’s mouth again, shifting the angle, and Alex follows blindly. There’s heat and need rising off their bodies. Alex’s body tightens around hers; she works her fingers against that tension. Alex’s heartbeat ticks in her neck.  
  
Alex lifts her chin, lips parting; the look etched on her face is nothing short of exquisite, Lucy thinks, in that moment before she goes over the edge.  
  
And then Alex is grinding down against Lucy's hand, clenching sharply on her fingers, a sound that's just as sharp falling from Alex’s lips.  
  
Alex’s legs are shaking—Lucy knows this by now—but she stays on her feet, bringing her hand up from Lucy’s hip to cup her face and kiss her while she throbs around Lucy’s fingers.  
  
She doesn’t have time to withdraw her fingers all the way before Alex’s hand is down her pants and her fingers are circling her clit. Lucy’s hips jerk, breath hissing. Alex takes Lucy’s lower lip between her teeth and sucks gently, scraping her teeth over it and letting go.  
  
Her hand goes from down Alex’s pants to the back of her neck, fingers slippery with more than just sweat, when Alex surges forward again and presses inside, palm riding against Lucy’s clit. Lucy’s other hand grabs at the shelf.  
  
It feels like it takes seconds to come—probably more than that, but she’s far more worked up than she realized.  
  
Lucy lets go of the shelf and slides her hand under Alex’s black top, her other hand working gently at the back of Alex’s neck, deepening the kiss as Alex draws out the last aftershocks and even lingers after, sliding easily inside her.  
  
“Better?” Lucy asks when they come apart.  
  
Alex nods, seeming to need effort to gather her words. “We should probably get to debrief,” She husks after a moment, not withdrawing her fingers. She’s not shaking from the adrenaline anymore, but she hasn’t moved away, either. Her gaze holds Lucy’s, steady and dark.  
  
“Yeah, we should,” Lucy agrees, and leans back in towards Alex’s lips when she sees Alex’s gaze drop down to hers.  
  
Moments later, Alex has them turned around and is helping Lucy push up onto the table—and then dropping to her knees.  
  
Frankly, she does _so_ much better in debrief when she’s had a chance to decompress first. 


End file.
